


boys like you

by HereComeDatBoi



Series: you're the one that's making me strong [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prom, Shopping, Slow Dancing, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-07-09 05:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19882468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereComeDatBoi/pseuds/HereComeDatBoi
Summary: "Do we really need to take anyone?” mumbled Shiro, staring down at his bowl of walnuts to hide his blush. He knew who he’d like to take, of course; over the past ten months his feelings for Adam had deepened into something far past friendship, something that left him sleepless at the thought of his friend’s warm eyes and tripping over his feet at the sound of his laughter. “I mean, none of us are dating, so...”----In between shopping for dress shirts and the perfect liquid eyeliner, Shiro and Adam forget to bring dates to prom.It works out anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ill add the custom tags later when I'm not on mobile
> 
> also I started this fic 9 months ago and couldn't even finish this chapter until now what have I become

Fourth-level aviation safety was possibly Shiro’s least favorite class.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the teacher, or his classmates―it was just that the topic was incredibly depressing. All the students in the piloting program had to take an aviation safety course each fall, and the fourth years were currently covering the measures necessary to prevent straight-winged aircrafts from icing over en route. Along with learning the safety protocol, they also had to memorize a list of downed flights and the procedural failures that caused them, which Shiro thought was unnecessarily morbid. It was, but nobody dared say so to their professor; everyone looked up to Officer Holt, with the sole exception of his son Matt.

“I’m not even _in_ the piloting program,” he grumbled, planting his face in his arms as his father turned back to the chalkboard. “Why do I need to be here?”

“Can you really blame your dad, though?” whispered the boy on Shiro’s other side. “You were the one who thought of hijacking the Raven to drop campaign flyers when it went out on a practice run.”

“We pirate _one_ plane and I get thrown into a class about flight safety,” Matt complained. “The Raven was a frequency jammer! How is learning about weather protocol going to stop me from messing with electronic warfare aircrafts? I’m part of the maintenance team!”

“Personally, I just think Officer Holt wants to keep an eye on you,” offered Shiro. “What else was he supposed to do? Leave you unsupervised for a ninety-minute break period?”

“Betrayed,” hissed Matt, pulling his jacket over his head. “I’ve been betrayed by mybest friends. How else was I supposed to help Rizavi run for student council? I didn’t have the time to pass out flyers when I could just scatter them over the whole school―”

“Hey, I’m not saying I don’t approve,” said Adam. “We got to skip running the mile because Iverson thought the plane went rogue and called a lockdown. That’s a plus in my book.”

“What was that, Umarzai?” asked Professor Holt, sounding exhausted. “Would you like to explain the icing phenomenon that caused the crash of Air France Flight 447 in 2009?”

“Uh―”

“Stay back after class. You too, Matthew.”

* * *

After the bell rang, Shiro slung his bag over his shoulder and booked it to the cafeteria, where he held the poorly paid position of salad-mixer for the first of the two lunch hours. Adam and Matt worked with him most days (it was this that had given Adam the idea to call their group the Salad Squad) but since they were both back in Professor Holt’s classroom Shiro had to set up the table alone. He washed his hands and put on the see-through shower cap before emptying a bag of spinach into a bowl, layering the leaves with walnuts and lettuce until Adam and Matt burst in through the swinging doors.

“Takashi!” cried Adam, throwing his backpack into the corner. “You’re not going to believe what we just heard.”

“A lecture, maybe,” teased Shiro, getting out the salad dressing. “Sam wasn’t too angry, was he?”

“It would’ve been Adam’s fault if he was,” said Matt blithely. “He wouldn’t stop quoting memes at him. But, guys―we’re _fourth-years_ now. And you know what that means.”

Shiro stared at him blankly.

“We’ve been fourth years since September. What could that possibly mean?”

“You know I love you dearly, Takashi,” said Adam. “I really, really do, but you have no social life at all.”

“You two are my social life,” objected Shiro. “And Iverson, I suppose. We annoy him too much to not be at least sort of friends with him.”

“True,” Adam admitted. “But that isn’t what Matt meant. Don’t you remember why we were so excited about being fourth years?”

“Moving to the fighter simulators?” asked Shiro uncertainly. “Was that―”

“Oh, come on,” said Matt. He put on an apron and jammed a cap over his hair, tying his apron strings one-handed before turning back to his friends. “The cotillion, remember? Open only to students in or above their fourth year of study?”

“They’re getting ready for that already? But it’s only October.”

“It’s the only big event we get before the graduation ball, so the student council’s going all out.”

“Are we even allowed to go? Iverson said all of us were grounded because of the Raven, so―”

“Details, details,” said Adam loftily. “He won’t uphold it. He never does.”

“I still haven’t figured out why that is,” frowned Matt. “Back before you moved here we got punished hard. Ryu caught me making Kermit memes out of that one weird staff photo Dos Santos took and setting them as the default background on the school computers once, and I got six weeks of bathroom duty.”

“We are literally stuck on three months of kitchen duty because you were too lazy to pass out Mishaal’s flyers, Matthew.”

“You’re stuck on kitchen duty because you helped. No one made you do it.”

 _“No one made me_ ―you literally told me I could say goodbye to your calc notes if I didn’t!”

“You succumbed to peer pressure, Shiro. You’ve still got to face the consequences of your actions, you know. What would Iverson say?”

“Stop, stop,” winced Adam, filling a steel bin with shredded lettuce. “You sound like one of those presentations they made us sit through during welcome week. They’re so American, ugh. We never had stuff like that back home.”

“What did you have, then?”

“Dunce caps. I spent half my childhood wearing those, now that I think about it. But anyway, who are you guys taking? To the cotillion, I mean?”

“Do we really need to take anyone?” mumbled Shiro, staring down at his bowl of walnuts to hide his blush. He knew who he’d like to take, of course; over the past ten months his feelings for Adam had deepened into something far past friendship, something that left him sleepless at the thought of his friend’s warm eyes and tripping over his feet at the sound of his laughter. “I mean, none of us are dating, so...”

“Dances aren’t really about dating, though. And I’ve already figured out who I’m going to ask, so you two need to get a move on.”

Shiro felt his heart break in half. “You do?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Who is it?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. What about you?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t really need a date.” Shiro emptied a bottle of dressing and threw it away, attempting to banish the thought of Adam arm-in-arm with one of the red-haired Ainsley twins or Mishaal Rizavi from their sim period. “I can help you out with asking yours, though?”

“Oh, please! Could you help me make a poster? Posters are fashionable for prom asks, right? I don’t have a clue how these things work―wait, what am I going towear? I’m not wasting the _one_ party we get on slacks, I won’t do it―”

“...What else could you wear then?”

“A sherwani, of course,” Adam sniffed. “I’d sweat straight through a suit, you know that.”

“Is that allowed, though? It’s a formal event, we’ll have to sign a contract just to go―”

“Since when have we cared about what’s allowed?” laughed the taller boy. “We’re the Salad Squad. We break rules for fun and get away with it, except when Matt gets lazy.”

“I don’t think they’d have a problem with Indian clothes,” said Matt, indicating the two gold studs twinkling in Adam’s ears. “Dos Santos did let you keep your earrings, after all.”

“I’m glad he did,” Shiro murmured. “They’re pretty.”

Matt and Adam blinked at him.

“What?”

“They suit you, I mean!” he stammered. “And you shouldn’t have had to give them up if they were important to you, anyway. You got them at your coming-of-age ceremony, right?”

“The last gifts my mom had picked out for me,” said Adam wistfully, reaching up to touch them. “I wasn’t about to let them go, not for anyone.”

A silence fell over them like a cloud, not too oppressive: just heavy enough to make its presence felt and dim Adam’s eyes a little. His mother had died around a year before he transferred to the Garrison, Shiro knew; Adam never spoke about how exactly it had happened, and still forgot to refer to her in the past tense whenever he mentioned her.

“I’m sure no one will mind,” Shiro said. “Have you got one already?”

“My aunt gave it to me for a going-away gift when I left. There’s jewelry and a pair of slippers to go with it, too.”

Shiro tried to visualize it and nearly dropped the second bottle of dressing. “W-Well, I don’t have anything to wear, so do you want to go shopping with me for my outfit?”

Adam’s eyes glittered. “Out of the Closet?”

“...Oh, no,” groaned Matt, covering his face with his hands. “Not _again_.”

* * *

It was a little-known fact that Matt and Shiro rarely got into trouble before Adam came along. Shiro couldn’t believe it himself most days, but the plain truth of the matter was that Adam adored mischief far more than Matt did, and the two just made each other worse if they were left alone together. This was why Shiro dreaded the first hour after lunch most of all―he hadn’t signed up for programming classes, which meant that Matt and Adam had sixty blissful minutes away from him each day to plot evil to their hearts’ content.

 _Do they even pay attention in that class?_ he wondered, heart sinking when he got backto their dorm to find it ominously empty _. I’m pretty sure Matt was a teacher’s assistant for it last semester and then just hacked himself in again this term._

After waiting by the door for a while, he went off for dinner and ended up sitting with Mishaal, who had cardkey access to the dining lounge reserved for student council members. Matt’s stunt with the Raven had paid off and secured her campaign for events manager, and sometimes even Shiro thought that the three months’ worth of lunch detention was worth it; after all, Matt’s crush on Mishaal was public knowledge to everyone in the school but Mishaal herself.

“Where’s the rest of the dream team?” she asked, watching him break an egg yolk over his bowl of fried rice. “Did Professor Holt toss them into detention again?”

Shiro snorted. “No, for once. But they didn’t come back after the last block, so maybe they pulled something in Rana’s class.”

“Mmm, don’t think so. I passed by there at four, and their desks were empty. They sit at the front, right?”

“They sit in the front in every class but Sam’s,” said Shiro dolefully. “They’ve been caught pranking Ryu so much that most teachers assign them spots in the front from the start of the year.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“No clue,” he frowned. “We were going to take food back to our dorm and binge the Evangelion reboot, and they didn’t even show up. Do you think they’re in trouble?”

“Aren’t they always?” quipped Mishaal. “I don’t think they’ve ever caused trouble in Rana’s classes, though. Adam wants to do computer science after graduation, and Matt needs to finish about twice as much coursework as we do if he wants to be considered for the space program. It’s a lot harder to get in if you’re not from the fighter division.”

Shiro stared down at his rice with a pout. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled. “The top ten percent of the fighter class gets into the space program by invitation, and all the engineers and C.O.’s have to sit exams for it. Iverson never stops talking about it whenever someone messes up during practicals.”

“Hey―you know you’re going to get in, right?” Mishaal poked his shoulder. “There’s a spot in the space program with your name on it. You don’t need to stress about it, I’m the only one even close to your record in the sims. Relax.”

“No. No, you’re not,” said Shiro, blinking away tears. “Adam’s been two or three points above me since the week he got in. I’ve only beaten him in the simulators six times, I counted.”

“Um...uh, that’s only one spot taken out of twelve, right? He’ll get the first, you’ll get the second, I’ll get the third and Philippa―”

“You’re getting the second spot. Not me.”

“...What?”

“Adam’s not going for the space program. At all. He told me that if he’s still in the top ten percent by graduation he’s turning the invite down.”

“Oh.” She studied his shaking hands for a moment and scooted a few inches closer. “Have you...talked to him about it?”

“Of course not. But I always wanted to be with him on my first mission, I’ve been thinking about it for months but that...that’s never going to happen. And if he’s not in the space program he won’t―he won’t have any reason to, to―”

He swallowed and tried to get the rest of the sentence out, but it caught in his throat and died like a spark of cheerfulness in Sanda’s morning assembly. “He―”

“To be friends with you?” asked Mishaal, bewildered. “You guys have friends in cargo and xenogeology. Do you think Adam hangs out with you just because you’re around? Because that’s stupid.”

“To stay,” said Shiro, feeling as if he might cry. “He’d have to stay if he joined the space program, but if he doesn’t he’ll probably go home. And then I’ll never see him again. Ever.”

“What does he have to stay for, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who permanently moves to another country for a friend?” she shrugged. “He’s been away from home for over a year now. You and Matt and Adam might be joined at the hip and all, but he’s not going to stay here for either of you.”

Shiro’s heart clenched. “Yeah, I guess. I know there’s no point fighting it. He belongs with his family, not me.”

Mishaal gave him a pitying look and turned back to her plate of adasi.

“If you don’t know how to make him stay, go back to your room and think about it. I promise it’s not that hard.”

He did go back to his room after dinner, and he did think about it. But no inspiration came, and when six o’clock came and went without any sign of the others he bit back a sob and started on his homework alone.

* * *

“He’s going to be so mad when he wakes up.”

“An eyeliner mustache isn’t exactly good prank material,” came a second voice from somewhere over his head. “Plus you’re going to get kohl on his notebook, and then it’ll be both of our necks on the line.”

“Eh, he likes you too much. Leave it on.”

“No! Hand me the Kleenex.” There was a sound like a water bottle being shaken, and then the touch of something soft and damp on his upper lip. “Takashi, _janaana?_ Hold still, I’m just wiping your face.”

“Adam?” mumbled Shiro, leaning into the gentle hand and fighting the urge to brush it with his mouth. “What’s wrong w’my face?”

“Nothing, _janu._ Just eyeliner.”

“Under my nose?” he said, stumped. “But it goes on my eyes.”

“Yes, it does,” Adam cooed, replacing the damp tissue with a dry one. “There, all done.”

“Dude. You are not subtle. Like, at all.”

“He doesn’t need to―wait.” Shiro opened his eyes as the last vestiges of sleep left him, glaring between Adam and Matt with his arms folded over his chest. “Where were you two? I was waiting for hours, you didn’t come to dinner and we missed the reboot at six-thirty―”

They stared back with identical evil grins, and Shiro felt his heart fall somewhere into the region of his stomach. “Oh, no. You didnot get into trouble again when we’ve literally been on lunch detention for a month and a half. Please tell me you didn’t, guys.”

“You would be correct,” smirked Matt. “In fact, we did the exact opposite of getting into trouble just now.”

“And what would that be?” Shiro squinted at him. “Breaking the rules and getting away with it by the skin of your teeth?”

“No,” Adam corrected. “We got ourselvesout of trouble. Specifically, we’re not grounded anymore.”

“What?”

“Adam went to Iverson and begged him to let you off the hook so you could go try out clothes for the cotillion,” shrugged Matt. “I followed him because I needed more pictures of Dos Santos for my meme folder. But then Iverson actually said yes.”

“But we were supposed to forfeit all off-grounds privileges until the end of the semester. How on earth did you get him to agree?”

“I told him I was a bad influence on you and Matt and that all your flaws in character can be traced back to me,” said Adam solemnly. “And I was very serious about it, too. He listened to me talk about how much of a denigrate I am for about an hour, and then he said he’d agree if Sanda did. So he called her up, and she yelled at him for fifteen minutes for bothering her on her break and told me I was the only reason she keeps brandy in her desk.”

“Sanda keeps brandy in her desk?” Shiro felt dazed. “But she’s a complete...teetotaler.Everyone knows that.”

“Not since I moved to the States, apparently. And then she just un-grounded us.”

“Well, technically she just un-grounded Shiro,” Matt frowned. “But Iverson said it wouldn’t be fair since we were all equally guilty, so she let me and Adam off too.”

“...I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” Shiro told them, almost too frightened to wonder what Adam could possibly have done to drive Sanda of all people to drink. “So we can leave campus next weekend? Without anyone having to set off a smoke bomb so we can sneak out?”

“Yeah, no smoke bombs needed. Plus we’ve already asked Matt’s dad to drive us to town on Saturday, so we are _Gucci_.”

“Never say that again, Adam. I am literally begging you.”

“You’re the one who taught me that,” Adam protested. “You told me it sounded cool if I said it while doing finger guns.”

“I lied. I only said that ‘cause I needed to look cool in comparison to you.”

“You little―I _trusted_ you, you jerk! Get _back_ here―”

“Mishaal was there!” screamed Matt, ripping his coat off and throwing it over Adam’s head. “I had to impress her! And I’m an idiot so I had to make you look stupid!”

“I don’t hang around with you because I’m cool, Matt!”

“Plus you’re way hotter than me, even Shiro thinks so! What was I supposed to do? I can’t woo girls with you just standing there next to me like some kind of Roman god!”

“I’m biased,” observed Shiro, closing his eyes and sighing as a rush of contentment flooded through him at the sight of his friends chasing each other around Matt’s nightstand. “Of course I think he’s―”

“Lights out was over an hour ago, cadets,” came a loud voice from the other side of the door. “Bed, now, or I’ll be putting in a request to the Commander to have one of you moved in with Officer Bletchley.”

“Sorry, sir!” yelped Adam. “We’ll be quiet.”

“See that you do. And for heaven’s sake don’t start blasting Rick Astley at three o’clock again, or you’ll lose your sim training time this weekend.”

“Who was that again?” Shiro hissed, after Dos Santos’s footsteps died away. “I swear, if I have to miss Montgomery’s training period―”

“Me,” said Matt unashamedly. “And I’m going to start my daily rickrolling during drills next week, so watch out.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“Oh yeah? Just wait and see.”

* * *

_If you don’t know how to make him stay, just think about it._

_I can't tell him what to do, Adam belongs with his family―_

_Why can’t you be part of it, someday?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update but *whip-dabs* it's here

The next morning found Matt and Shiro alone in their triple dorm room, still dressed in their Garrison pajamas (Shiro) and a long pink t-shirt over gym shorts (Matt). Adam had gone off to make up a physics lab, leaving the others alone to bolt the door, put on false beards, and roll a dirty whiteboard out of Shiro’s closet. Matt had saved the board from a pile of furniture headed for the recycling plant, and cleaned it off the best he could with alcohol before drawing a salad bowl, a carrot, and a piece of frosted cake on the back for Salad Squad meetings. 

“Why am I the cake?” Adam had wondered, on the day the whiteboard made its first appearance. “And why is Takashi a salad? I get you being the carrot, but not...any of the rest of this. Including the beards.”

“I’m never going to get any taller than maybe five-six, so I need the beard as squad president to make me look mature. You two need it because it pleases me to make you look silly. Also, Shiro’s the salad bowl because he’s crazy about healthy food, and you’re the piece of carrot cake because you’re a sweet  _ snack. _ ”

_ “Matt!”  _ squawked Shiro. “You can’t just say that, oh my God―”

“I have the power of God and anime on my side, Shiro. I can do whatever I want.”

But today the Salad Squad (or rather, the shorter two-thirds of it) had a more serious agenda: namely, the question of Shiro’s increasingly obvious crush on Adam. Matt claimed to have thought out a plan about how to get the two of them together, and was insistent that Shiro keep out of the simulators at least long enough to hear it. 

“Meeting of the short members of the Salad Squad, come to order. All present, say aye.”

“Aye,” Shiro called from his perch on the footboard of Adam’s bed. “You have to say it too, Matt. It doesn’t matter if you’re the one opening the meeting.”

“Aye, then,” agreed his friend, rapping on the whiteboard with a pointer stolen from one of the empty English classrooms. “In case any of those assembled were unaware of today’s objective, the Salad Squad is embarking on mission number one hundred and thirty-six: get Shiro a boyfriend.”

“Not just any boyfriend,” Shiro corrected anxiously, eyeing the door to make sure it was still locked. “Adam, specifically.”

“Yes, Adam specifically,” sighed Matt. “It’s not as if you’ve ever spent a straight year making googly eyes at anyone else, but you will be pleased to know that I’ve already thought up a plan.”

“You have?” Shiro felt his heart beat faster. “What is it?”

“I’m going to go home with Dad tomorrow, so you two will have the weekend alone...and at some point between Saturday afternoon and Sunday night you’re going to work up some nerve and  _ tell him how you feel. _ ”

Shiro’s face fell. “That’s not a plan, Matt. I can’t do that.”

“If I can steal a plane for Mishaal, you can at least just say ‘I like you’ to Adam. It can’t be that hard.”

“I’ve never heard you telling Mishaal that, so yes, it _is_ that hard. Or you’d have already done it.”

“Mishaal doesn’t like me that way, or I would have. But  _ Adam  _ thinks the sun rises and sets on that mochi face of yours, so you don’t have any excuses.” 

“It’s not a mochi face,” complained Shiro, clapping his hands over his cheeks and noting grimly that they did look like the marumochi cakes and  _ daifuku _ his grandmother always made for the New Years’ festival in January. “My face is chubby, but not that chubby.”

“It is that chubby, and that’s a good thing,” Matt said dryly. “Adam thinks it’s cute.”

“How do you know?” Shiro’s heart started fluttering again. “You’re just saying that. He’s so tall and he wears gold earrings and he’s so  _ beautiful― _ and he’s only fifteen, Matt! I’m a year older than he is, and I still have dimples and literally all of my baby fat and like three ounces of muscle and―”

“He told me so. Now, pay attention. What are you going to say to him?”

“I told you, I can’t just tell him how I feel! I don’t even know if he  _ likes  _ boys. Has he ever even said anything about that?”

“Well, no,” Matt conceded. “But he makes eyes at you almost as often as you make eyes at him, so I’m pretty sure he does like boys. His voice goes all soft and tender every time he looks at you, and that’s definitely not a friend thing.”

“But what if he’s straight? What if I tell him I like him and he thinks I’ve only been friends with him for so long because I want to date him? What if he doesn’t want to live with us anymore? What if he gets mad, or feels betrayed, or―”

“Most of all that would just be him being a jerk,” his friend pointed out. “Or homophobic. Which we know he isn’t, because he’s literally the sweetest cinnamon roll alive and the two of us keep on talking about how bi and gay we are.”

“Well, I can’t ask him out if I’m not his type,” Shiro reasoned. “I think we should adjourn this meeting and reconvene when we know what his type  _ is. _ ”

“It’s boys with black hair and mochi cheeks, Shiro. We’ve been over this. And who said you had the authority to adjourn the meeting, anyway?  _ I’m  _ the one who opened it.”

“But there’s not any point in―”

“...What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing!” yelped Shiro, throwing himself into the narrow doorway to block Adam’s view of the mission briefing. “Nothing at all, don’t wor―wait.” He stared at the bolt on the door and frowned. “How did you get in? The door was locked.”

“You didn’t bolt it properly,” Matt scolded. “Look, you didn’t get it all the way into the trough.”

Shiro looked. So he had. “But―”

“You aren’t trying to steal a plane again, are you?” said Adam wryly, leaning around him to look at the newly-cleaned board. “Because I’m not sure I have time in my schedule for a heist that big, with exams coming up and all.”

“We were having a meeting of the shorter salad squad members, but now that you’re here it’s just a regular meeting of the salad squad. Did you finish your lab?”

“It only took ten minutes,” Adam shrugged. “I had the whole room to myself, so I used twelve stations and ran all the trials at once.”

“But you’ve been gone three hours.”

“As for that, I have news,” announced the younger boy. “I met Mishaal and Phyllis on the way back, and they said they had tea to spill.” 

“Is this confidential tea?” groaned Matt, with a pout that could have rivaled the ones his sister Katie liked to make. “Fortune truly does favor those who oversleep and miss lab period. Oh, to have been a fly on that wall while you talked to Mishaal Rizavi―”

“It’s not confidential, because it wasn’t theirs. Here, give me my beard, and I’ll tell you.”

Once the false goatee was stuck to Adam’s chin, he sat down on the floor between them and flopped into Shiro’s lap, spreading the rest of his five foot ten over the carpet and folding his arms under his head as the other two sat waiting for him to begin. Shiro’s cheeks flushed and slowly began approaching the dark crimson of old tomatoes, but luckily (or unluckily, in Matt’s opinion), Adam was staring straight up at the ceiling and seemed not to notice.

“Well,” he said at last, “how much do the both of you know about Sergeant Ryu?”

Matt and Shiro turned to one another and blinked in unison. Whatever they’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t  _ that.  _

“Not much?” Shiro ventured, wondering what the poor man could possibly have done. “Just that he likes cartoons a lot. He did the animation for the recruitment video, right?”

_ “And?” _

“Hates tattoos and piercings?” suggested Matt, who was scribbling blue streaks through Adam’s hair with his dry-erase marker. “He gave you a dress code mark before Iverson let him know you had religious clearance for your earrings. And Janssen from the senior cargo class got pulled up for going to assembly with sleeves short enough to show that dagger on his forearm.”

“That’s  _ exactly  _ it. Phyllis told me that Philippa told her that Ryu’s got a set of tats better than David Beckham’s. Apparently, he and Iverson got really drunk at a staff potluck about twelve years ago and took a taxi downtown to a tattoo parlor, and―well, you get the rest. They dared each other to get something that would get them in trouble with Sanda, but then they just got lame friendship ones or something. Ryu’s looked really out of place, though, so he went back and got a full sleeve later.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Shiro told him, keenly remembering the telling-off Ryu had given one of the engineers just for mentioning her own tattoos while he was in earshot. “And anyway, how would Philippa know? None of us were here twelve years ago.”

“No,” said Adam smugly. “But the twins have an older sister, and she was a junior cadet back then. She was coming back from the commissary and saw them going up to the staff quarters in their undershirts, so she also ended up seeing the tattoos.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” hissed Matt, jabbing Adam in the side. “If we can sneak into their rooms then―”

“Oh, no,” Shiro cried, leaping out from under his friends and flailing like a fish on a hook. “Oh, no way! You two are  _ not  _ getting me mixed up in the middle of this, I swear to God. I’m invoking clause thirty-seven of the squad contract, you guys are on your own. No distractions, no diversions,  _ nothing. _ Don’t pout at me, Adam, I mean it!”

Matt scratched his head. “What was clause thirty-seven again?”

“All members of the Salad Squad may choose to withdraw from any operation at any time and for any reason,” Adam recited dutifully. “If it is necessary to do so in the company of non-Salad Squad members, tapping one’s ear three times and coughing to the beat of ‘We Will Rock You’ will suffice.”

“That’s okay,” declared Matt. “You won’t be down for what I’ve got planned anyway, so Adam and I will pull it off and let you join the fun later.”

“But I don’t want to join the fun at all.”

“Oh, you will. I promise.”

“That was kind of ominous, Matt.”

“Good.”

“Adam, save me,” Shiro begged, hiding behind the taller boy and wrapping his arms around his waist. “My record can’t take much more of him.”

“Come here, I’ll protect you,” laughed his friend, picking up Shiro’s sword plush and waving it under Matt’s nose. “Avast, fiend! Stay away!”

“Me, a fiend?” said Matt slyly. “If only you knew what I was helping Shiro with earlier, out of the sheer goodness of my heart―”

_ “ _ Matt,  _ stop! _ ” wailed Shiro, grabbing the sword from Adam and beating Matt over the head with it. “Code, uh, you know the one! Be quiet!”

“Okay, okay! But you guys better hurry up and get dressed, we’ve got to go to noon assembly soon.”

“Oh, right.” Adam snapped his fingers. “What’s-his-name’s getting promoted, isn’t he? How many people do we have to sit through again?”

“Eight? I’ve stopped paying attention to the bulletins, though, so I honestly don’t...Matt, leave my jacket alone. You can’t steal it just because you didn’t iron yours, you’re drowning in it.”

“Hey, what’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a noodle,” said Adam dryly, plucking the folded coat out of Matt’s arms and replacing it with an iron. “Here.”

The process of getting ready for assembly took almost an hour on good days, but by a long series of oddly fortunate coincidences (and a good deal of scolding on Adam’s part) they made it to the south auditorium by three minutes to noon and slipped in with the rest of the fourth-years before the doorwardens could get the chance to lock them out. 

“Holt?” whispered one of the Ainsley twins, sighing at the sight of Matt’s orange carrot-top tucked under Adam’s elbow. “Are you seriously trying this again? Go sit with the STEM kids.”

“ _ Shush _ , Phyllis,” Matt hissed. “They won’t notice if I stand behind Adam, he’s tall.”

“Not taller than me, I’m afraid,” came an unamused voice from over all three of their heads. Sergeant Ryu had apparently been right next to them since the second they walked in, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth pursed up as if he had swallowed a lemon nd then a jalapeno pepper for good measure. “Back to science and engineering with the rest of your class, cadet. Move along.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Matt, saluting and following Ryu into the crowd as meekly as if the sergeant had been his mother. Shiro squinted after him as he ran off towards the STEM section, catching the tail end of a wink and a cryptic hand gesture before he vanished behind a pair of dark-haired communications officers―it was definitely suspicious when Matt capitulated  _ that _ easily, and he certainly never looked quite so devilish as he had just then unless there was some kind of mischief afoot. But then again there was little he could do in the middle of a packed assembly hall, which soothed Shiro’s nerves just well enough to let him sit down in his spot between Mishaal and Adam.

“Is that about the tattoos?” frowned Mishaal, leaning over Shiro’s shoulder to whisper in Adam’s ear. “The ones Pauline told Philippa about?”

“Maybe,” Adam whispered. “We haven’t decided what we’re going to do, but we can plan it later since Takashi’s not going to be with us for this one and Matt isn’t here anyway.”

“Wait, Mishaal’s joining you?” Shiro jumped in. “Why?”

“We’re all equally invested,” she told him. “This is―wait, shh. Sanda’s looking this way.”

They fell silent after that, since talking during assembly automatically resulted in three discipline marks and half an hour of lunch detention―but it was still far too long to sit through without communicating at  _ all,  _ and so when Shiro glanced down at his lap around the halfway point he found Adam pushing a tiny pencil and a piece of old lined paper into his hands.

_ Hangman?  _ it said, along with a clumsy drawing of a noose and gallows.  _ Bored.  _

Shiro chuckled.  _ Okay,  _ he wrote back.  _ You have to give me a category though. _

His friend took back the pencil and thought for a moment.  _ Foods OK? _

_ :3c _

They played for about three minutes before Shiro lost (somehow managing to miss “banana fritter” with only the A’s and N’s still left) and then changed tack, finishing six games of tic-tac-toe and one of sketched mancala before Adam reclaimed the paper and wrote down another sentence on it. 

_ Remember when you said you would help me ask my date to prom? _

_ Yeah,  _ answered Shiro, feeling his heart drop somewhere into the region of his liver at the thought of it.  _ Posters are good, do you want to do that? _

_ It seems kind of trite, tbh.  _

_ I guess? But it depends on the person! I wouldn’t mind a poster, it would be really sweet to get asked with one. Matt said no one should use them now that we have holoscreens, though, so there’s that. Or you could get flowers. _

Adam stuck his tongue out between his teeth, plucking absently at his collar as he thought about his reply.  _ Well, that’s a problem. I want to do it right, and if he doesn’t like posters… _

_ Oh,  _ Shiro thought, blood running cold as the implications of Adam’s reply started rampaging through his mind like wildfire.  _ Oh, oh  _ no― __

_ Why does that matter?  _ he scribbled hurriedly, biting his lip to keep back tears and shoving the paper back into Adam’s lap.  _ He’s going to support you no matter how you ask out your date. And anyway, that’s just his opinion.  _

_ It’s Matt I’m asking to the prom,  _ wrote Adam.  _ I have to find something else if I already know he’s not going to like a poster, right? _

Shiro nodded, ducking his face and pretending he had dust in his eyes so he could wipe them dry on his sleeve.  _ Right. Talk more in sims period? I think I saw Dos Santos glaring at us just now.  _

Two seconds later he found the bit of paper in his hands again, emblazoned with the words  _ Takashi, are you okay? You look really sad, what’s wrong? _

“Nothing,” he mouthed, patting Adam’s arm. “Hungry, that’s all.”

Adam turned back to face the front, seemingly placated by the assurance; but Shiro sat staring at the ground with all his hopes of confessing over the weekend dashed to pieces around him, trying valiantly not to cry as his eyes strayed over to the other side of the auditorium where Matt was sitting with the rest of the fourth-year STEM students. It made sense, he realized, recalling the way Matt had pounced on Adam and declared him a kindred spirit the moment he first introduced them to each other. After all, Shiro knew he was nowhere near as daring as Matt was, or even half as intelligent (he had no misapprehensions about  _ that,  _ certainly) and Adam always seemed so much more at home in Matt’s company, as if he held himself back somehow when he was with Shiro instead. 

_ They belong together,  _ he thought miserably, heart breaking in half as Matt turned around to grin at them.  _ They’re both smart, and creative, and they share all the same interests, and I’m just the fighter pilot that bumped into him on his first day here because I didn’t watch where I was going. Matt might not like him that way now, but how long is that going to last? Adam’s...Adam’s  _ perfect,  _ and I’m only... _

“Takashi?” came a tender voice from his left, followed by a soft warm hand on his cheek as Adam bent down to check his temperature. “The assembly’s over now,  _ janu.  _ Didn’t you notice?”

“No,” he said lamely, hoisting himself off the bench. “Didn’t hear.”

“Okay, so I definitely saw  _ something  _ under Ryu’s collar when he―uh, Shiro?” Matt stopped bouncing and looked anxiously up into his face, poking his hairline and forehead to see if he had a fever. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“I kind of feel like it,” Shiro admitted, leaning heavily into Adam’s side as a slim brown arm slipped around his waist to steady him. “It was really hot in there, and I had my jacket buttoned all the way up.”

“But it’s fall,” worried Adam. “And it wasn’t hot in the slightest. Didn’t you notice me scooting closer to you to stay warm?”

Once upon a time, something like that would have made Shiro’s day, or even his whole month. But now―well, Adam liked Matt, didn’t he? What kind of friend did it make Shiro, to be so utterly shattered about it? Matt would never hurt Adam, Adam would never hurt Matt, and two people better suited for each other had probably never existed; he ought to have been  _ happy  _ at the thought of them getting together, not groggy and aching from head to foot as if someone had run him over. 

“Moonlight?”

“Don’t worry,” he told them, smiling as genuinely as he could. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine.”

Shiro spent the rest of the day in something of a daze, trying his best to respond to his friends and assure them that he was all right―but he supposed he could have done a better job, and by the time Dos Santos came around to chase everyone into their rooms Shiro was too downhearted to notice his two friends throwing worried glances at his bed every now and then as he burrowed further under the blankets. But they left him alone, for better or worse, and by around ten o’clock all three of them were fast asleep and snoring like a trio of hibernating bears in a very untidy den. 

_ It’s better this way,  _ Shiro’s dreams seemed to tell him, tearing painfully at all the dreams he had been building up for almost the last sixteen months.  _ What if you two couldn’t have made it work? What then? _

_ I would have!  _ he wailed in return, finally breaking into tears.  _ I’d do anything to make sure I didn’t let him down, anything. _

But the dream stopped there, for someone soothing and warm and kind had crawled into the bed beside him, murmuring something over his head that sounded like a verse from a nursery rhyme. “Blow on bad dreams, and they’ll go away,” the someone said quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose and wrapping him up in a hug. “See, moonlight? All gone.”

And then he could hear a lullaby, fading from language to language like darkness fading into sunlight and cradling every bit of his soul in the gentlest, brightest way. It was Adam, he thought, Adam whose chest he was lying on, Adam whose arms were smoothing the quilts over his back...Adam whose voice was floating into his heart like golden honey, lifting his cares and woes as it went until he could breathe at ease. 

“That’s it,” whispered the love of his life, holding him closer still as they drifted back to sleep together. “I’ll be here when you wake up, my  _ habibi.  _ Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on Tumblr/Twitter at @datboicomehere!!


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